


Children of Liberty

by Quiet_Shadow



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Adopted Children, Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Padmé Amidala, BAMF Padmé Amidala, Childbirth, Dresses, F/M, Family Issues, Handmaidens, How to Weaponize Naboo's Decoys Culture, Hysterectomy, Imperial Intelligence Is Pretty Much Done with Amidala, Interspecies Relationship(s), Jedi, Minor Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Multi, Naboo Culture and Customs (Star Wars), On the Run, Padmé Amidala Lives, Padmé Doesn't Think She's Much of a Mother, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Politics, Rebellion, She Still Tries Anyway, Star Wars References, Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22073056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiet_Shadow/pseuds/Quiet_Shadow
Summary: Part of her might die that day, crushed into nothingness, but she lives nonetheless, continuing to draw breath after breath as her vitals stabilize.There is a tiny, stubborn spark insides her, a minuscule flame of will which refuses to dim and be blown away. It is this very spark which fueled her during her darkest times, making her continue to fight in the Senate for causes she already knew were lost, deep down. It is this very spark she ends up clinging to, thinking:no.No, she can’t go like that, a broken woman swept away by the current of fates, dying of a broken heart while the love of her life stood and destroyed everything she had ever believed in and fought for.Or wherein Padmé Amidala survives childbirth, thinks, cuts her losses and gathers her Handmaidens past and present around her to found a Rebellion. And if she weaponizes the hell out of Naboo's custom of using decoys and gives Imperial Intelligence fits while doing so, well, so much the better for her.
Relationships: Eeth Koth/Mira, Eirtaé/Original Gungan Character, Padmé Amidala & Dormé & Sabé, Padmé Amidala & Naboo Royal Handmaiden(s), Padmé Amidala & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padmé Amidala & Other(s), Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 18
Kudos: 284





	Children of Liberty

In the end, in spite of her despair at seeing the Republic she always so faithfully served crash and burn and be reshaped into something dark and malevolent, in spite of the anguish of knowing the man she loved and pledged herself to tried to kill her in his rage and murdered children when he himself was soon going to be a father, in spite of the pain of childbirth that racks her body as her children, Anakin’s children, slip out of body in a torrent of blood, in spite of the heavy blood loss she experience, in spite of wanting to just… _let go_ , thinking she’s unable to continue forward, Padmé lives.

Part of her might die that day, crushed into nothingness, but she lives nonetheless, continuing to draw breath after breath as her vitals stabilize.

There is a tiny, stubborn spark insides her, a minuscule flame of will which refuses to dim and be blown away. It is this very spark which fueled her during her darkest times, making her continue to fight in the Senate for causes she already knew were lost, deep down. It is this very spark she ends up clinging to, thinking: _no_.

No, she can’t go like that, a broken woman swept away by the current of fates, dying of a broken heart while the love of her life stood and destroyed everything she had ever believed in and fought for.

Padmé Amidala was Queen of a whole world at 14 years old and Senator of that same world by the time she reached 18. She has never been one to stay idle and allow herself to be pushed asides by anything or anyone. She’s the Queen who stood against the Trade Federation and won, uniting her people and the Gungans for the first time in centuries and healing broken bonds.

(She’s the Queen who unwittingly helped to topple a Republic by calling a vote of No-Confidence against the last honest Chancellor said Republic ever had, and let a power-hungry madman be elected in its step.)

(She’s the Senator who unwittingly helped to destroy the Jedi Order by falling in love with one of its member, a love that was all-consuming to a degree she hadn’t realized. Though in this case, it can be argued the fault isn’t truly hers. Jedi are sentient beings; they deal with emotions and attachments every day, even if they pretend they don’t. They just know that, in order to better serve the galaxy, they must be ready to let go, anytime.)

(Anakin Skywalker was never good at letting go, and it costed the galaxy dearly.)

Padmé is a (former) Queen and a (former?) Senator. The Republic and liberty may have died under thunderous applause, but what kind of person would she be, if she didn’t rise and fight for her convictions and to repair what has been broken?

So this tiny spark lingers, fueled by the cries of her newborn infants who are wordlessly asking for their mother, fueled by the quiet presence of Obi-Wan Kenobi, who wordlessly stands vigil by her side, not daring to hope she’ll live but not daring to dread she’ll die either, fueled by the word of encouragement of the Polis Massans, who do their best to try and save her while she stubbornly refuses to let her body shut down once for all.

It’s touch and go for a long time. She has lost a lot of blood, even if an observatory outside the medical bay wouldn’t see it. The twins are born too early and did damage on the way down. Polis Massans are kind-hearted individuals, but they don’t have a solid grasp of human anatomy. The medical droids end up being in charge, somehow, and their solution to save Padmé’s life are… extreme. In the end, they cut away and remove what they think are irreparable and likely to cause her death if the bleeding doesn’t stop.

She won’t have anymore children, she’s told apologetically by a doctor as she sits in her bed, her daughter in her left arm and her son in her right.

Padmé just nods at him, stone-faced and emotionally detached. Honestly, after everything she lived through in the last few days, learning that they were forced to perform a hysterectomy on her barely touches her. Besides, it’s not like she wants to have more children, she thinks as she looks down at Luke and Leia, asleep and peaceful and perfect and half of Anakin and it almost makes her break her composure in front of Bail and Obi-Wan and Master Yoda.

(It’s not like Anakin could even get more children, being left more machine than man and hooked to systems to keep him alive, not that she knows this at the moment.)

She doesn’t, though, because if she starts crying now, she will never be able to stop.

She’ll cry later, she thinks dispassionately, as she asks for news, any news of the outside.

She’ll give it to the surviving Jedi and her old Senator friend, they don’t bother hiding anything from her. Padmé stays silent and she listens, heart dangerously close to breaking anew at each bad news they give her.

Palpatine is Emperor. The Clones have killed the Jedi. Survivors are fleeing and picked off one by one whenever they get cornered. Senators who have been known to oppose Palpatine have already started to be ‘questioned’, though it’s just ‘interviews’ for now.

Anakin may be dead, or he may still be alive; Obi-Wan doesn’t know for sure, and that’s when Padmé whimpers.

“There is still good in him,” she says quietly to herself, not looking at anyone but at her children. She knows there is, even if Obi-Wan and Yoda clearly don’t think so. But they lost more than Padmé in the last few days, and she doesn’t wish to argue the point with them (yet), still too tired from her near brush with death to walk into the arena and defend her point of view.

Yes, she’s certain there is still good in her husband.

But she also knows, with deep certainly, that Anakin is also dangerous, too dangerous for her to be near to, for their _children_ to be near to.

(She swears she can still feel this ghostly hand around her neck, _squeezing_ , all because she wasn’t reacting like he wished her to, because she had unknowingly brought Obi-Wan with her, because she had looked at him with horror after realizing it was true and he had murdered _children_.)

(She’s not sure why it shocks her so; hadn’t he told him in what felt like eons ago that he had annihilated the Tusken tribe which had taken his mother, children included? She hadn’t wanted to believe it, perhaps. Or she had cautiously decided to forget it, chalking it up to an overreaction brought out by grief, an isolated incident that’d never happen again.)

(Nobody she had spoken to had described the Tuskens as anything but monsters; mayhap it had clouded her judgment, for which she can only berate herself.)

(Oh Goddess, how could have she been so naïve?)

Anakin almost killed her, without even meaning to; what would he do to two fragile infants if his temper got the better of him? Children cry at every hour of day and night, they don’t always listen to their parents, they argue and they can be casually cruel.

Would she trust the Anakin she saw in those last moments on Mustafar to care for her (their) children?

No, no, she wouldn’t, she realizes with a sinking feeling.

And even if she was, there would still be the shadow of Palpatine looming behind her husband. Her old mentor, the former Senator who took her under his wing, who had manipulated her, she realizes so now, to make himself elect Chancellor and who Is responsible for Anakin’s folly.

( _Ani, Ani, what did he told you? What has he promised you? Why did you listen to him? I told you I wouldn’t die giving life!_ )

(And if she had, well… he would have ultimately been the one responsible.)

Palpatine is probably a bigger threat to Luke and Leia than their father can ever hope to be. Padmé can too easily picture him, bent over their cradle with his scared face and crooked smile, like a malevolent spirit from the old spirit tales her Grandma used to tell her and Sola in the dead of the night to scare them.

He won’t have her children, she decides immediately, and she says as much aloud.

She can see the relief in Obi-Wan, in Bail, in Master Yoda. Were they fearing she’d try to return to Anakin’s side?

A part of her wish she could, but…

There is no coming back home over a broken and burned bridge.

Perhaps, somewhere, there’ll be another road, another bridge. But today isn’t the day.

Today is the day she has to make hard decisions, for both herself and her children.

They don’t talk about them at first, Luke and Leia, the innocents in the room, the ones who will need the most protection, protection Padmé isn’t sure she can afford them. Perhaps it makes her a bad mother, but her first concerns are for the galaxy first and for her children second.

Perhaps she’s too much of a Senator and not enough of a mother yet, or not even cut to be one, unlike Sola. Perhaps it’s just shock because for all she bore them for eight months (not nine, like she should have), she hadn’t been prepared to actually hold them. Perhaps it’s just she knows, deep down, that there won’t be safety for them so long as the Galactic Empire stands.

Perhaps it’s because even now, she knows she needs to distance from them, else she will not be able to do what she needs to do in order to both assure their safety AND lead the Rebellion against Palpatine’s tyranny.

“Secrecy…” Bail advises when they start talking about the subject honestly, Leia suckling from a bottle while Luke watches the ceiling, cooing. Padmé stops him with a jerky shake of her head.

“Secrecy is not an option for me. It’ll never be,” she states with all the calm she can muster.

She knows, they all know it’s true. Anakin Fell because he couldn’t handle the thought of losing her (and he still did, somewhat, and it’s the biggest irony of it all). She’s part of the Delegation of 2.000. She’s an important member of the Senate. She’s Anakin Skywalker’s (not so) secret wife, and the newly christened Darth Vader will be seeking her out if he has any inkling she’s alive. Palpatine will be seeking her out, because she’s her enemy, she’s a threat to his control on Skywalker (not that they know it or really realize it, yet), she’s a pesky symbol he needs to get rid of as discreetly as possible and pin the blame on someone else if he can now that he doesn’t need her anymore.

Had Padmé actually died in childbirth, he would have been delighted, she’s sure.

Padmé’s best bet to stay safe would probably to fake her death and flee among the stars, far away, stay hidden, stay discreet, perhaps even raise her children herself on some remote colony, under an assumed identity, one anonymous face among many displaced by the galactic wide conflict which spread over the last three years.

Padmé has never been known to stay safe. She can’t imagine staying hidden.

Not when she’s the perfect face to unite all those who wish to oppose Palpatine.

Padmé has won the respect of many as Queen and as Senator. She is well-known. She is, also, Senator to the homewold of the newly named Emperor; what does it say about him and his unilateral destruction of the Republic when his own Senator refuses to support him? Padmé knows she can bring many people on Naboo on board with her, like former Queen Jamillia and Neeyutnee and current Queen Apailana, who all have their own clout. From Naboo and its moons, she knows she can gain further support from the neighboring systems.

She also knows all those who formed the Delegation will flock to her in time if she becomes the public symbol of Rebellion, either discreetly or in public rebellion themselves.

Padmé needs to take a step back and let Amidala move forward, and Bail knows it. He doesn’t like it, worrying about her, and he ought to, really, but he won’t make her change her mind. He’s already making plans too, though he doesn’t share them quite yet.

She won’t ask him to stand with her in open rebellion, even if he helps her fund and maintain the Alliance to Restore the Republic. She has plans for him, plans he seems to have already half-guessed at, given how often she hands him Leia to hold and the way he looks between them, mother and daughter, with sad eyes and a look of sympathy and comprehension.

Obi-Wan and Master Yoda are harder to convince.

“It’s too dangerous,” Obi-Wan warns her, eyes worried. In a week, he seems to have grown ten years older, stress lines clear on his face. “Think about the children, Padmé; you can’t…”

“I’m thinking of them, Master Kenobi,” she says simply as she hands Luke, comfortably swaddled in white and grey linen, to him. He accepts the infant after some hesitation. “In fact, you can stay that what I do, I do it for them first and foremost. I do it for their future. I do it so they won’t have to grow up in the shadows of terror, them and all the children of the Republic.”  
She closes her eyes briefly and forces herself to stay steady as she looks at Master Yoda. His ears are dropping and his eyes show the same sympathy and comprehension as Bail. He has understood already what she’s going to ask from them, even if Obi-Wan hasn’t caught on yet.

“The children can’t stay together,” Padmé Amidala says, and if the words make her want to weep, she still says them aloud, and she means them. “And they can’t stay with me either. I will be living on the run and clandestinely. I will paint a target on my back wherever I go. It’s not a way to raise children. They need stability, comfort, love. A family,” she adds, burying all thoughts that, if things had been different, Luke and Leia would have had all that and more with her and Anakin. “And if the worst was to happen and I had to be killed or taken captive, I don’t want my children to have the same fate. Anakin might not raise a hand against his own children; the Emperor will have no such mercy. Not if he thinks he can twist them like he twisted my husband.”

“Padmé…” Obi-Wan says, aghast, but Master Yoda nods gravely.

“In your family, do you wish for one of them to go?”

It would be so tempting to accept, but… “It’s the first place they would be looking for my child,” she says ruefully. And besides, she has every intention to take her family with her when she reaches then leaves Naboo. They would never be safe otherwise. Her parents, Sola, her nieces,… they will all have to leave Naboo.

That’s why she thought of Bail. Bail, who has often spoken of his desire to have a child, and of his and Breha inability to conceive one of their own. Bail, who mentioned they had been looking to adopt at some point, when the situation would be less chaotic with the war. Bail, who would be a good father (and Breha, who would be a good mother). Leia would be safe on Alderaan, and she’s be loved and protected.

Luke… It doesn’t come as easily, but Padmé thinks of a young couple in the dunes of Tatooine, of a standoffish young man who was a bit gruff but had a good heart and his fiancée who had the sweetest smile and who would look after any child placed in her care as well as if it was her own. She has only met Owen and Beru Lars for a few days, but she’s certain that they’d raise Luke right. Obi-Wan needs to disappear too for a while, for the hate Anakin (Vader) feels toward him is overwhelming, and Tatooine is as good a place as any for that. Padmé still hopes to get his help when the moment will come.

“A heavy sacrifice, you are making, Senator,” Master Yoda comments as Padmé exhorts Obi-Wan’s promise to look after Luke and NOT teach her anything of the Jedi before he gets her approbation. He’s going to leave soon, too, for parts unknowns.

(She knows it’s not really the Jedi’s fault Anakin has become what he is now, but… There are things she can’t think about right now, or she’ll misplace the blame everywhere but where it actually belongs.)

“A politician’s life is full of them, Master Yoda,” Padmé replies with a tense smile as she oversees the preparation for Obi-Wan’s departure.

“Padmé… Anakin and Palpatine will search for your child, once they find out you’re alive,” Obi-Wan says worriedly before his ship is set to take off, Luke carefully cradled in his arms, fast asleep. Padmé is relieved he is; she doesn’t think she could have said goodbye if he had been awake and looking at her with clear eyes that would most likely become as blue as Anakin’s had been.

(Blue, blue, not the hateful yellow she saw on Mustafar when he got angry and started to choke her with the Force.)

“They will,” Padmé nods, having already considered the matter. “But they won’t find Anakin’s children.”

Obi-Wan tilts her head curiously. “How?”

The smile he gets in return is the smile Queen Amidala used to give visiting politician; serene but hiding a hint of secrecy and amusement at the ignorance the speaker. “My dear Obi-Wan,” she says with a farewell bow, eyes on Luke and Luke only, cataloguing every little detail about her son before she leaves him for Force only know how long, “I am Naboo.”

It is vague and cryptic for the unwarned, but she thinks Obi-Wan will get the hint. If he does, he doesn’t show it.

Padmé watches his ship disappear among the stars, tears rolling along her cheeks, Bail by her side with Leia in his arms. Her daughter is fussy, probably sensing the absence of her twin brother already (“Strong in the Force, they both are,” Yoda has warned her. It’s one reason more for keeping them apart, as cruel as it is; together, they’d be like a beacon for the Dark Side of the Force to find).

“You could still change your mind,” Bail says, eyeing her warily.

“I won’t,” Padmé says, wiping away her tears. “Now, my friend, I need a ship. I need to return to Naboo.”

She leaves Bail behind, taking a small, fast and discreet ship without specific markings and taking the less frequented hyperlanes to Naboo. It’s risky, she knows it. If they suspect she’s alive, Palpatine and Ana… _Vader_ will be watching Naboo, lying in wait for her.

But Padmé isn’t without allies or help to reach the planet discreetly or contact her family and tell them to be ready to bolt. She still knows how to access the palace of Theed to speak with Queen Apailana, taking secret passages only known to the royalty of Naboo and their security forces.

She never told Anakin or Palpatine, but she always had contingency measures in case something dire happened. Captain Panaka had insisted in his time, and his nephew Gregar Typho had followed in his lead when she became Senator, discarding the old plans and reforging them anew. Padmé sends out codes while she treks toward Naboo, changing ship and changing appearance as she goes, meeting up with Naboo Security Corps agents hidden on various stations. She can’t be sure of their ultimate loyalty, but so long she’s not a declared enemy of the Empire, she’s reasonably certain she risks nothing.

Despite this, she almost get caught more than once, but luck (or the Force) is with her. Luck, (the Force), and her faithful handmaidens.

People often dismisses the shadows of the Queens. They see pretty faces and sweet smiles and deferent attitudes and dismiss them as easily as they discard a hand at Sabbac.

It’s a mistake.

A Queen of Naboo is nothing without the loyalty of her handmaidens. They’re her bodyguards and her confidents. They attend to her hair and clothes, true, but they also keep her secrets and see to her safety with words, knives and blasters, with hacking and piloting skills and with a willingness to play decoy to protect her from would-be assassins and enemies of all sort.  
Padmé Amidala has always been good at inspiring loyalty. There is a reason many of her handmaidens officially chose to change their name while they attended her in other to match hers. They’re her friends, ready to walk through the fire for her, and they would do so with a smile.

So when her small ship lands in a remote landing pad owned by the family of a girl who was once named Tsabin, a name which doesn’t exist anymore in the system, Padmé Amidala is not surprised to see they’re here, waiting for her.

Sabé and Dormé, her closest confidents, Sabé who was with her since the first day and Dormé who has been with her since she became Senator. Eirtaé, who retired from service and moved in with the Gungans to learn more about their art (and who has found herself a Gungan boyfriend, the last Padmé had heard of her). Miré and Umé and Hollé, who oversee the Varykino Estate since they left Coruscant, and who double as bodyguards for Padmé’s sister and nieces (who they already sent to a safehouse the moment Sabé contacted them with pre-set codewords, letting them know something was afoot and the Naberries in potential danger). Rabé, who has become a moderately famous musician here on Naboo, and punctually sent records of her latest solos to Padmé on Coruscant.

Others wished to come. They couldn’t without raising the alarm. Just because one dismiss the handmaidens doesn’t mean a couple of them aren’t watched. Moteé and Ellée are still on Coruscant, as well as Duja and Karté (and oh Force, Padmé hopes they can leave before it’s too late, because the moment she reveals her hand, she knows Palpatine will have them arrested, perhaps tortured and/or executed. Look what he did to the Jedi! But Padmé can’t stay her hand for them; if she did, they’d never forgive her anyway). Saché is deep into politics in Theed, hoping to replace Sio Bibble as its Governor, she’s too visible to just disappear (and she might be blocked from accessing the position one way or another, because of the closeness she shared with Padmé). Fé is off planet, married to a freighter pilot she assists in his work. And Yané…

Yané has already met Padmé off planet. While Sabé and Dormé are her closest confidents, Yané is the one Padmé contacted first, the one who could help her with the most crucial part of her plan. And right now, she’s off to fulfill yet another objective, one step ahead of everyone else.

Padmé’s face breaks into her first true smile in weeks as she’s hugged from all sides and let herself be warmed and reassured by the familiar faces and presences around her.

It all but lasts for an instant, for insides the cockpit, the wail of an infant startle them all.

“Padmé! Is that…?” She’s not sure who is asking. Sabé and Dormé knew she was pregnant, but the others… it had been too much of a secret to share freely, even among those Padmé trusted like her sisters. She doesn’t answer just yet as she climbs back inside and take out a bundle of clothes, cradling it carefully against her chest.

The baby isn’t happy to be here and isn’t shy about letting it know; if the situation wasn’t so dire, Padmé would probably chuckle.

But she can’t. Solemnly, she looks at each of her (former) handmaidens in the eyes and lift the baby for them all to see. It’s a little girl, with a fine duvet of blond hair atop her head, as blond as Anakin’s. The color of her eyes won’t set for a couple months, but they’ll eventually darken to become brown.

“This,” she says quietly, “is Amidala’s child.”

Her friends’ backs straighten. Smiles freezes. Words of congratulation stay stuck in throat. They sense, they know the double meaning without needing to be further needled. It lasts for a minute, it stretches for an eternity. But then Eirtaé is the first to break the silence and walk over, bending a bit forward to coo at the newborn.  
“Oh, what an adorable little thing! What is her name?”

“Now,” Padmé says with a small smile, “that would be telling. But be assured that her name will be worthy of Amidala,” and then it’s like a dam broke, Sabé and Rabé and Dormée and Umé and Hollée and Miré all surrounding Padmé and the baby to take a closer look, cooing and whispering before they move and hide the ship, then rejoin the cabin Sabé kept under her former name to talk and plan and decide wherever or not they will join Amidala on her new quest.

They all say ‘yes’.

(Truly, there was never a doubt. Padmé’s former and current handmaidens are her sisters in all but blood, and they share her convictions. Even if they have removed themselves from politics, the fall of the Republic doesn’t sit well with them, even less so when in hushed words, Padmé admits her life is forfeit anyway thank to Palpatine.)

Lady Amidala does her first public speech calling for rebellion against the tyranny of the newly installed Emperor Palpatine a couple of days later, from a remote orbital station, her family safe and sound listening to her from outside the holo camera’s range.

She’s not Queen anymore, and she rejects her title of Senator during that speech, arguing that the Senate she served is now dead and dust, hollow and empty of substance in the wake of the proclamation of the Galactic Empire, so why should she climb to a title that has no meaning anymore? She rejects Padmé, never mentions her name of Naberrie, never thinks of herself as Skywalker, even though she could reveal it right now if she wanted to. She has been Amidala since she was fourteen years old and chose a ruler’s name, and Amidala is all she shall be now.

Her father has a firm hold around his wife’s shoulders, looking at her with pride and dismay, while her mother tries not to cry, knowing how much of a target her youngest child is becoming with each word coming from her mouth. Sola is quiet, listening intently, one hand squeezing Ryoo’s, who frowns and bites her lips. Pooja is attentive, more than a child her age ought to; the little girl will always remember this moment, even when she’s old and grey, this moment where she saw her Aunt become the symbol of Rebellion, this moment where she herself decided that one day, she’d follow in Padmé’s footsteps too.

Padmé has always been beautiful. During what the masses will someday call ‘the First Revolution Speech’, she looks ethereal.

She’s dressed for the occasion, her face painted white and her lips marked by the scare of remembrance just as it was when she was just a 14-years old sovereign fighting for her planet. Her opulent dress is white and grey and gold, closely based on a Naboo funeral garb to reflect her sadness at the passing of the democracy she always upholded, while the white and pale colors reflect her wish to bring light back in those dark times. Her hair are twisted in a complex hairstyle, combs dripping with ranks of pearls symbolizing the tears of the victims of this unjust war fixing her braids together.

Four of her handmaidens, faces hidden by their cloaks, stand by her as she speaks, silent supportive shadows dressed in long tan dresses and brown and blue cloaks that remind strongly of a Jedi’s garb. They did it on purpose, to show exactly where they stand and what they support, and they hope the subtle message will reach surviving Jedi still out there in the galaxy and let them know they can seek Lady Amidala out, that she will help them in whatever way she can.

(It does work, though it’s slow. Queen Apailana smuggles a little group out of Naboo before being caught by spies and the newly installed Moff Quarsh Panaka. It hurts, knowing a man she once trusted and respected so much stands with Palpatine, but Amidala steels herself. What is one more treason, after all? Panaka was always martial for a Naboo, loving discipline and strength and believing they buy protection. His choice isn’t totally a surprise. She consoles herself with the thought that even if he supports Palpatine, Panaka is a good man deep down and won’t abuse his newfound position of power, and she consoles herself presence of young Apailana by her side, who has managed to escape in the nick of time thank to the help of their people. The very young Queen, younger than even Padmé herself when she took her office, still lost an arm and an eye to laser fire, but she is alive, and her voice joins Lady Amidala in rebellion, her new prothesis laid bare to show the wounds she has received but which haven’t cowed her and her dead eye blending with the white makeup she still uses in her apparition and which also help mask the burns on her face.)

(Padmé Amidala is the snowball which starts the avalanche. Apailana is the brave, brave girl who inspire legions to join in, for if a small child-Queen could rise against the Empire, why couldn’t I?)

(But one by one, surviving Jedi do find the Alliance and make themselves at home inside. Not all of them want to fight, but it’s alright – and hardly surprising. Jedi should never have been Generals in the first place, or so Master Eeth Koth says quietly as a woman he claims as his wife helps distribute food around.)

(It hurts a bit, knowing there is another Jedi who is married and who hasn’t become insane out of worry out there, but Padmé still smiles and welcomes him anyway and doesn’t say anything when it becomes obvious Mira is pregnant. She sees the love, a love which doesn’t need to be hidden and buried behind live, a love that is healthy, between Master Koth and Mira. If things had been different, if Anakin and Padmé had been able to be more open, would they have been like them? Or like Master Mundi, who had apparently been openly married too, even if it was a special case only allowed due to the low birthrate of his species? Or were they always destined to crash and burn together?)

(It doesn’t matter, she forces herself to think. She can’t keep second-guessing herself. So long the Jedi live, so long they can preserve a little of their culture and faith and teachings, so long she can deny Palpatine their death, Amidala is happy. Even if it hurts her on a more personal level.)

In the arms of the handmaiden furthest to Amidala’s left, there is a bundle of clothes. One can barely see the nose of the baby hidden inside, and it’s impossible to say if it’s a boy or a girl. Lady Amidala doesn’t precise it herself, just saying ‘my child’ and sticking to gender-neutral pronouns, never giving a name. The bundle doesn’t draw that much attention anyway, because the eyes are on the former Queen, the traitor Senator, and it’s exactly where she wants them to be.

The symbolism of her dress and of her handmaidens’ will escape many in the galaxy, of course, but Lady Amidala can’t bring herself to care. Naboo has had a long tradition of expressing ideas and feeling through clothing, bringing it to a subtle art that not all can decrypt. Her clothes are almost as much a challenge as her speech, and she hopes Palpatine chokes on his rage at seeing her alive and well and ready to fight him. She hopes Anakin weeps and has a change of heart, too, but she squashes the idea immediately.

Her husband doesn’t matter anymore from now on.

All that matter is saving what can still be.

(Darth Vader does weep at seeing her alive and well, even if it’s only an holo, and he weeps too when he spots the bundle in a handmaiden’s arm. But he doesn’t change his mind. What he hopes is to get Padmé back and makes her see he did it all for her, that what he’s doing is for the greater good of the galaxy and that someday, she’ll thank him for it. They’ll be happy again, them and their child, all together as it was always meant to be.)

(Boy or girl? He wishes Padmé would say so. And what did she name their child?)

( _Padmé, Padmé, come back to me! Why are you doing that? We could be a family, without the need to lie and hide ourselves, like we always wanted! Stop speaking like a Separatist, it’s not you, it’s not you, someone is using you, they’ve put words in your mouth and manipulate you like a puppet and I’ll make them pay!_ )

Not a single instant does he imagine that the baby in the holo might not be his -- but to be fair, neither does Palpatine, though he ought to know better. Palpatine is from Naboo.  
He never paid attention to the craftier part of his own culture, though.

Here is a thing about Naboo.

It is customary for the Queen or the King to have a decoy or two hidden away among the handmaidens and councilors, in order to better assure their safety. It is why they were elegant, ornate and elaborate garments and white makeup and why there always is one or two or three persons in their close entourage who bear a significant likeness to them in term of size, weight and face. Everyone who has spent time with the Royal House of Naboo knows it. It’s not even a practice only enforced on Naboo; it also exists on countless worlds out there.

Padmé always made the most of the custom. All things considered, she might be one of the Queen who used the most decoys through her career (especially since she kept up the practice even when made a Senator).

It’s a practice of politicians.

It doesn’t immediately come to anyone mind, not even to her own parents at first, that it’s a practice Lady Amidala might and can apply where her own child is concerned.

There is no hiding from Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader that she was pregnant and that she must have given birth. But the rest… Ah, the rest can be hidden behind so many smokescreen, false leads, smart decoys and semi-truths and lies that even years later, Imperial Intelligence Agents will still not be able to agree on the truth of it all.

Lady Amidala’s child is present in every recorded speech she delivers illegally on Imperial frequencies and the newly formed Alliance’s network, always in the arms of an handmaiden while the Lady speaks. She never speaks directly of her child, except to mention she wishes all children of the galaxy have a chance to live out of the shadow of the Empire, her own’s included. She doesn’t mention a sex at first either, then she slips, saying ‘her daughter’ during two different addresses.

But then she slips again and say ‘her son’, and suddenly it’s not so certain anymore. It doesn’t help that careful rewatching of all records make them realize it’s never the same child who is present. A tuft of blond hair here which mysteriously becomes black in the next apparition of the child, a nose larger or smaller than last time there, a mole on the forehead which seems to have appeared overnight, an eye which is obviously blue peaking from behind a corner of blanket becoming black in another video…

Mayhap she had twins, some brave souls in the Imperial Intelligence suggest, despite the fact there is only one single child visible at any time.

(The idea is carefully studied and debated and not entirely discarded, but they avoid speaking about it when Vader is around. The man is breathing down enough on their neck already to discover the truth behind a single child, they dare not imagine how worse it’d be if it was confirmed that Lady Amidala had two children instead of the single one.)

They try and find out the truth, of course, since it’s their job, but truth is always so elusive. Putting spies in place is a hassle, for they are often quickly uprooted, between the fanatically loyal and protective members of Lady Amidala’s retinue and the traitorous Jedi she harbors with her, and can only give them fleeting rumors they heard. They have yet to find someone who can actually approach the child(ren).

It takes them almost two full years to gather the fact Amidala’s child is apparently named ‘Jommillia’, most likely as an homage to former Queen Jamillia, Amidala’s successor and one she had campaigned for in the elections, and it take Imperial Intelligence two months more after that to realize it’s not the child true name but a code name – or rather, a name of office, because the child is as much a symbol as their mother, and it must be reflected. It has a feminine consonance and would be a female name on many Core worlds, but it’s actually a gender-neutral name in the Mid-Rim and on Naboo, so they’re no closer to certainty as to the gender of Amidala’s child.

Still, Jommillia Amidala is what they settle to call the child by default, until they can find the damned kid’s actual name.

Surely, it can’t be so hard?!

Darth Vader certainly doesn’t think so, when he looms behind them and request any and all footage they have of the fugitive.

But yes, it is. They gather names from times to times, names which slipped between doors as people chatted. Zara, for a little girl. Kane, for a boy. Then it’s Alana and Mina, and Cordyn and Enaat and Edmée. It’s Windy and Deak and Justin, and Akira and Oeta. And others, so many others they note and wonder if they’re real or if someone is just playing with their nerves.

(In truth, it’s both, real names belonging to real children, so many children, but what do they know? Only what Amidala wants them to know, and she takes great delight in making those hunting her run in circles. Her years on the Senate and a secret marriage gave her plenty of practice for that.)

They’re ready to scream in frustration and horror when, three years in their manhunt for Amidala, Jommillia takes on a bigger role, appearing as a small cloaked figure by their mother’s side. They wear a robe, but it means nothing, since robes are a frequent choice to dress up young children for ceremonies, being more convenient to put on and remove on fussy toddlers.

Holo quality is bad, but it’s clear the child has long blond locks pinned underneath her hood. It’s the same thing on the next video, but the chin emerging from the cloak looks rounder. Then Amidala’s child suddenly becomes dark-skinned in the next video, despite the application of a white makeup similar to their mother’s. Then it’s a boy on the half-dozen of following video captures they get. Then a girl again, just when they thought that perhaps, just perhaps they had been played for fools and it had been a boy all along.

Only for the video featuring two identical ‘Jommillia’ to hit the network, two little girls with blue eyes and black curls that could have reminded those who knew her of Shmi Skywalker, and the twins’ theory rears its ugly head again, except this time with monozygotic twins instead of fraternal, like first suspected.

A snarky Agent, who is starting to notice the pattern, bets that soon there’ll be triplets instead.

(There is, eventually, but only a few more years down the line.)

Then comes the video where the toddler by Amidala’s side is clearly a female Gungan and she still calls her Jommillia and her child, and that’s when Imperial Intelligence collectively wince in late realization of what game is afoot and play short stick to know who will bring the news to the Emperor and Lord Vader, who is breathing hard on their neck to find the former Senator’s hideout (which they still haven’t, even three years into the New Order).

(The loser dies, but it’s not a surprise. Vader’s anguish is palpable through the palace for those with a modicum of awareness to the Force, but it holds no candle to the rage mixed with dark amusement of the Emperor upon realizing how well-played they have been.)

Objectively, Intelligence stammers out after losing one too many members to the rage of Vader, there is no way to know for sure which of the children under her care is truly Lady Amidala’s child, they say. She’s using too many decoys ever since her child was a newborn, so they have no real point of comparison. She’s too tightlipped and clever to betray herself. Perhaps, if they could get their hands on at least one handmaiden, they’d be able to make her talk… assuming her handmaidens know the truth themselves, which they can’t be certain of.

Of course, it’s also possible Lady Amidala never had a child in the first place. Even if Lady Amidala was truly pregnant at some point, nothing says her child was born alive, or that they didn’t die soon after birth or in early childhood.

(To say the theory enrages Darth Vader is an understatement. It takes the Emperor’s personal intervention to save the poor man who advanced the hypothesis. Padmé’s child isn’t dead! They can’t be! He refuses to accept the possibility. Once he finds Padmé, she’ll tell him the truth, he’s sure of that.)

Whatever.

In the end, they still are tasked with hunting them down and bring them in, unharmed. And try they do.

It’d be so much easier, if Lady Amidala didn’t use decoys of her own atop the decoys she uses with her children, but Padmé was always a smart girl then a wise woman, and even if the enemy knows it’s a trick, it’s not like they can discern who is the real one at first glance. Even Anakin was tricked more than once, when he was still himself, and the Emperor is too wise to allow him to pursue his errand, pesky wife himself, less he’d loss control of his Apprentice.

It’s a risk. It’s always a risk, one that makes Captain Typho and his Security team fret anxiously. But the fledging Rebellion needs allies, and Padmé is the figurehead of the movement. People trust her more than they trust shadowy figures. She’s level-headed and sensible, not like many early Rebels such as Saw Guerrera. She won’t lead an army, not like she did on Naboo with the Gungans (and even then, she sneaked around more than she actually led), but she can negotiate help, terms of alliance, friendships, even the occasional I-will-look-the-other-way-and-won’t-denounce-you from other Senators who don’t approve of her and her crusade but respect her too much to turn her in. Even former Separatists are willing to talk to her.

(Bringing Lux Bonteri on her side is one of her biggest victories, one that keeps her warm at night for months.)

So Amidala has to make frequent appearance. And if the woman under the elaborated garb and the impassible makeup isn’t Padmé Naberrie, well, is it really such a big deal? Sabé and Dormé could be her twin and her triplet respectively, even without makeup, looking more like her sisters than Sola herself. They know what Padmé is willing to compromise on and what she won’t budge on, what her ideals are and what sacrifices she’s willing to do to make them come true. When they speak, they speak Padmé’s words.

And so there is one, two, three Amidala running around the galaxy at the same time, just like sometimes there is none when they lie low and let Queen Apailana take the lead of the fight.  
And always where Amidala goes, Jommillia follows her, for the Lady wouldn’t let her precious child out of the sight, would she? No mother would.

But Amidala isn’t much of a mother, even for the children she adopted by the dozen, is she?

Padmé tries, of course. Whenever she has a moment of freedom from her duties as the head of the Alliance, she seeks out the children. She sits with them, plays with them, read them stories. She brushes their hair and kisses their forehead, and she tries not to think about Luke and Leia, somewhere far away from here, safe and sound when all the children who were picked to play the role of Jommillia are raised on the run, in constant danger, amidst politics and lies, all for the sake of keeping the true prize out of the Empire’s reach.

They’re orphans, all of them. Little, fragile beings whose parents died in the Clone Wars, in speeder accidents, from mortal diseases or who were simply cast asides and abandoned by parents who hadn’t wanted them in the first place.

There is Zara, who is Naboo, blonde and brown-eyed, like a little mix of Padmé and Anakin, who loves crosswords puzzles and takes to politics like her adoptive mother. There are Lahé and Lakmé, both of Naboo as well, with black hair like Shmi Skywalker and blue eyes that are a shade paler than Anakin, identical twins who took lockpicking skills to an art. There are Mina and Alana, both born on Alderaan, although they aren’t related, both of brown hair and brown eyes, one short and stocky and the other lankier, one interested in languages and the other in hacking.

Justin could easily pass for Anakin’s son, even with the dark brown hair that are a shade deeper than Padmé’s. Padmé isn’t certain, but she thinks Yané picked him up on Tatooine when she went to drop a message for Master Kenobi. He’s always talking about piloting when he’s old enough. Deak is quieter, more interested into reading than going out and play with the other children, brown eyes rarely leaving the pads he’s reading even as he blows over long black locks to chase them away from his face. Enaat’s golden curls are so thick, it’s a rat nest if she forgets to brush them more than one day – and forget she does, because she’s too busy slipping inside the hangar’s bay to look at ships with a look of wonder. Kane is often sick and is the one who leaves the nursery the least; he’s a good listener and dreams of exploring all the planets of the universe one day, when he’s healthier and stronger.

Oeta is mischievous, always playing practical jokes, sneaking around to lay traps; if anyone knows how to navigate from a point A to a point B without getting caught, it’s him. Cordyn has the fiery redhead part down to a pat and she’s counting the days until she’s old enough to learn hand-to-hand with the teenagers who joined the rebellion. Edmée is mute and covered in scars from the ship crash which killed her birth parents; she’s the watchful one and the one who trust the less easily of all the children. Akira is much like her, watchful and thoughtful, never speaking his mind unless he has had the time to think long and hard about it. He’s sensitive to the Force, Master Koth has warned Padmé, but he doesn’t display any desire to learn, and Padmé won’t force him if he doesn’t wish to, and neither will any Jedi. Windy loves disguises; he’s always going through Padmé or her handmaiden’s old clothes to pick up material for new capes and robes and hairpieces. Rae Rae is clumsy, as are often Gungans when they’re not in the water, but she has an easy laugh and a sweet smile that makes your heart melt.

It’s Yané who has chosen them. Yané, who spent years after the Trade Federation’s invasion on Naboo helping the children affected by the conflict. Yané, who had contacts in many orphanage and caritative associations and who was considered trustworthy, who went and picked them up from various world, using her credentials. Yané, who should be the one they call ‘Mother’, because out of all of them, she’s definitely the most motherly.

Yané, who cries with Padmé over what they had had to do to keep Padmé’s real child safe, and the only being outside of Padmé, a Senator and two Jedi on the run who knows for certain none of the children who looks up at Padmé and call her ‘Mom’ is genetically related to her. Even Sabé, Dormé and Eirtaé suspects Padmé’s true child is actually Zara or Mina.

Not that there is any doubt where Rae Rae is concerned; humans and Gungans aren’t biologically compatible to have children together, not like humans and Twileks. Rae Rae is truly more Eirtaé and her Gungan fiancé turned husband’s child, one more niece for Padmé to care for, but they still use her occasionally to ‘play Jommillia’.

Padmé’s adoptive children are such smart little beings, she marvels sometimes as she sits in circle with then on the floor and they discuss who is going to go with Mom or Aunt Dormé or Aunt Sabé for the next negotiations and what they should wear or say or what toys they should bring or how they should act, arguing back and forth on how to make ‘Jommillia’ more detailed or make them blend in the background.

‘Being Jommillia’ is a big game for them, and Padmé doesn’t know if she should weep or smile about their resilience on the matter.

She has told them, since they’re very little, that bad guys are after them all – after Mama and Grandma Jobal and Grandpa Ruwee and Aunt Sola and Aunt Dormé and Aunt Sabé and Aunt Rabé and Aunt Yané and everyone they have grown up with. The bag guys are after them, too. But the bad guys don’t know how many they truly are, or who is truly who. They all think there is only one child, and that the child’s name is Jommillia, a made-up name Mom chose when they were still very little.

So long the bad guys are chasing after Jommillia, they won’t be searching for them all, all the brothers and sisters they grew up with. So sometimes, one of the kids or perhaps two or three have to dress up like Mom does when she’s working and be seen and filmed, and it leaves the bad guys confused and everyone else safe.

It’s a bit simplistic as far as explanations go, but they’re still so little. Even if some of them are bright and are looking at Padmé with sharp eyes, they don’t question her aloud yet, working up their own answers to what she doesn’t say in order to confront her later, in private, not in front of the rest of their siblings.

(Most of them have actually worked up the fact Padmé isn’t really, really their Mom – at least not like Aunt Sola is cousins Ryoo and Pooja’s mom, or like Mira Koth is little Sanisha’s mom. Like, humans only one or two kids at once most of the time, not a dozen or so like other species with litters. So, objectively, they know they don’t come from Mom’s belly. But does it matter? Aunt Eirtaé and Uncle Ryssal aren’t Rae Rae’s Mom and Dad, and they’re still feel like they are. Adoption is no less valid than blood.)

(Padmé is still Mom, because she took them him and she loves them and raises them. Perhaps she’s a bit distant sometimes, and perhaps she’s always busy, but she’s still Mom, and they love her.)

If keeping their family together means ‘playing Jommillia’ every once in a while, well, they’ll do it in a heartbeat, with their own variations.

Eck, for all ends and purposes, Oeta says brightly with a laugh, Jommillia is their family name as much as Amidala has become Padmé’s during her political career.

Kane’s Jommillia is always playing with spaceship models and discreetly coughing in large silky handkerchiefs, hinting at his frail health or at recent bouts of sickness to gather sympathy. Lahé and Lakhmé are always together and respond to Jommillia as one, dressed identically and speaking at the same time or finishing each other’s sentences, it’s uncanny. Windy’s Jommillia always has the most extravagant clothes, whereas Enaat has the simplest, but they both act as if what they’re wearing is the grandest thing in the world. Edmée’s Jommillia never speaks, since she can’t, but she always manages to make it seems she does, opening her mouth to whisper wordlessly at her own handmaidens’ ears as if she was shy while she signs with her hands under the too-large sleeves of her gowns.

Because of course Jommillia has handmaidens and advisors of their own as they grew up, to further confuse Imperials. Most are others ‘Jommillia’, but there are also other children from the outside, children whose parents are serving in the Alliance or who died in the insurrections and fights against the Empire. Not all of them are humans; Rae Rae picks another Gungan as part of her ‘retinue’, while Zara has both a Zabrak and Mirialan in her own and Lahé and Lakmé are often accompanies by two red-skinned Twilek twins.

They’re not decoys; they’re friends. All children need friends.

Especially in the dark and troubled times they all live in.

Padmé does her best to protect them, but…

Battles happen. Friends, people the children grew up with and casually called ‘Uncle’ or ‘Aunt’ don’t always come back home. Once, they narrowly escape an Imperial fleet sent after them. As much as she’d wish war wasn’t affecting her adoptive children, it still does.

She wipes away tears. She murmurs reassurance. She sooths fears and angers. She chases away nightmares as best as she can.

She tries not to think of Leia and Luke and how they don’t have to live through that, for which she’s happy, but it doesn’t make her feel less guilty to have condemned other children in their place, children she loves as much as her own flesh and blood, or at least loves as much as she lets herself allow to.

Anakin’s rage and the betrayal on Mustafar have left their marks on her, as much as she wants to deny it. Mustafar taught her love is not enough in the face of evil, sometimes.

She’ll probably never be able to love or trust someone as deeply as she did once upon a time, except her oldest, dearest friends – and even then, there are days where she doubts, she doubts too much, because Duja and Karté died before they could betray her, one leaping from the balcony of her apartment and the other under torture when the Empire did come after her handmaidens left on Coruscant, but would the others? Or would they…?

“Never,” Sabé swears to her, holding Padmé’s shoulders as she trembles and cries into the night. “Better death than to betray you, Padmé.”

She trusts Sabé, she does. But sometimes, it’s just so _hard_ …

One day, Padmé thinks in the privacy of her mind, she’ll probably break down in too many pieces to pick up. But today isn’t the day, and neither will it be tomorrow. Not so long her fight to restore the Republic isn’t over. Then she’ll allow herself to do what she refused to in the wake of Mustafar.

When the fighting is over, she will let go.

For now, the Alliance needs her. Her children, all of them, need her.

She had still so much to teach them. Her handmaidens have still so much to teach them.

They’re all learning piloting and hacking, several languages outside of Basic, knife-fighting techniques and hand-to-hand combat. They’re all learning the history of the Republic and how it slowly fell under the manipulation of key individuals such as the former Chancellor-turned-Emperor. They’re all learning of laws of the Republic and laws of the Galactic Empire, because it is useful to know and use as argument of comparison, and they learn the laws of so, so many planets. They’re all learning the art of politics, even if some of them are better suited for it than others.

(Zara is terrifyingly good, she could have been a Queen or a Senator herself if things had been different. Oeta should never be trusted with negotiations. Ever. As for Cordyn, well, sometimes politics have to involve blunt tools as well, and she’s suited for that. That said, Padmé doesn’t think it’s a good idea to leave her unsupervised.)

She won’t have them come unaware. They’re her children, and she intends for them to live and survive, because the Empire won’t stop going after them. Anakin won’t stop going after them, because he wants his family back. She thinks it won’t matter to him his child won’t be able to help him overthrown the Emperor, or at least she naively hopes so. Mustafar showed she didn’t know Anakin as well as she had thought.

(She’s less certain the Emperor will show interest if he believes Anakin Skywalker’s child is Numb to the Force, but you never know. A child of Anakin is still an useful tool.)

(That’s also why she worries for Akira, who has the dubious luck of being Sensitive. Her adoptive son is starting to rethink his stand on training, and perhaps Master Koth will be willing to train him, even if he’s a bit older than usual Jedi standards. Padmé doesn’t know if it’s a good idea or not.)

It racks up her guilt at night, and she thinks it’ll give her more than one grey hair, but…

What choice is there, really?

(Later, much later, Lady Amidala will meet a young, kind-hearted boy accompanying an aged former General-turned hermit who has decided the time was right to come back on the frontlines, a kind-hearten boy who grew up with loving if sometimes a little gruff adoptive parents and who never had to dodge laser fire from a Stormtroopers squadron learning Amidala’s child was there. He’s not a Padawan, but Obi-Wan has started teaching him, and there are in Luke the markings of a great Jedi, a better Jedi than his father could have ever been.)

(“He takes after his Mother,” Obi-Wan says simply, and the other Jedi bow to this, because they can see it too. The wariness won’t totally leave, but they’re giving Luke a chance, and that’s all there need for.)

(Later, much later, Lady Amidala will meet a young, fiery Princess from a peaceful world, sent by her adoptive Father as a contact, a Princess who has never known the fear of being hunted across half the galaxy by a bunch of very stubborn bounty hunters and who has beliefs, strength and moral certitudes no one will be able to budge – and a curious taste in boyfriend, if Padmé reads the situation correctly between Leia Organa and Han Solo. Well, better a smuggler than a Jedi on the verge of Falling, she thinks.)

(“She has Anakin’s quick temper,” Padmé has to wistfully acknowledge, and it’s a bit painful to see, but Leia is more grounded than Anakin, and she never had a falsely kind old man poisoning her mind and warping her moral compass since she was a young child either, “but I think the dubious boyfriend bit is entirely my fault.” Obi-Wan laughs sincerely at that.)

(She won’t tell them: ‘I’m your Mother’, because she doesn’t think she has the right, not after abandoning them for their safety and for the sake of the galaxy, but they’ll know anyway.)

(Anakin’s biological children are strong in the Force, after all, and they remember her, albeit distantly.)

(It will be tearful. It will be sad and beautiful.)

(It is another story for another time.)

“Do you ever feel guilty?” Sola asks her once as they watch the children play in the nursery they set up deep inside an Alliance ship, where only the most trustworthy of advisors and guards can enter. There are her adoptive children, Ryoo and Pooja, Sabé and Lieutenant Torna’s baby boy, Eirtaé’s two adoptive daughters, little Sanisha Koth who loves dolls, a few of the younger Force Sensitive children Jedi have managed to find and rescue before the Inquisitors could get their hands on them, future Jedi Apprentices if they wish so. All of them precious, all of them specials. “You’re turning them into child-soldiers.”

“It’s not my intention,” Padmé replies after a moment of silence, not looking at her sister.

Sola tilts her head in acknowledgement, because of course it’s not what Padmé wished. It doesn’t make it any less true. “I suppose there is no choice, though. Not given the galaxy in which we are leaving. All the children in the Alliance are children of war, from the son of the humblest mechanic to the daughter of the highest-ranked general.”

“On the contrary,” Padmé answers just as quietly and looking at her sister at last, a serene smile on her lips, Amidala at the foremost even if she doesn’t wear the garb and the makeup. “It’s true they’re living in a war, a war which has been going on for longer than most of them have been alive. But I wouldn’t call them Children of War.”

She pauses, embracing them all with her gaze.

Each one of them is a symbol in its own right, she thinks. A symbol of something grander than war, something which should have died under thunderous applauses all those years ago but that she and countless others are still fighting to maintain and keep, from the double-agents hidden away in the Empire’s ranks to the various rebel groups which act with the Alliance without necessarily being part of it, like Cham Syndulla’s movement on Ryloth.

“I like to think they’re the Children of Liberty.”

**End**

**Author's Note:**

> I admit, I had a looot of fun running around Wookipedia and picking references, especially when it comes to names; can you spot them all? ^^


End file.
